9th Sunday after Pentecost – Year C
Luke 1:1-11
“Teach us to Pray”
This past Thursday, I needed to travel to Atlanta to meet the newly appointed campus pastor at GA Tech. The cut-backs in campus ministry budget have reduced the church-wide staff from eight down to two and one half. Duties once taken on by these folks have been passed to local staff – like me. So on Thursday, I traveled to Atlanta to meet the new staff person who will be heading up our work at Tech, GA State, and Agnes Scott.
I was very impressed, and pleased, and am confident that in a few years he will build a strong program and be the one visiting me, to share insights. But for now, I am clearly the senior, and no matter how hard I tried to tell him that I was there to lay the foundation for a long and supportive collegial relationship, there remained strong overtones of “authority come to town.”
I had anticipated some of this. So I had built in a safety valve. Since I was going to be in Atlanta anyway, and since Kat’s Father’s Day gift to me were a couple of tickets to see the Braves, I called Ben Edge to see if he might want to sit patiently and wait for me to finish the meeting, then go with me to the game. He did. The Braves won. And I had the perfect antidote to a morning filled with cautioned conversation. Whereas I needed to think about each comment to be made to my new colleague, with an ole friend I could speak freely and comfortably. (Sorry, did that sound like I called Ben “old?” I didn’t mean to. I meant to refer to a friend with whom enough time and interaction had been shared as to allow one to feel at home and at ease.)
Communications experts teach us that interactions between such individuals are honest, mutually enhancing, and productive. We all seek such interactions. But getting there isn’t as easy as taking a course on communications; it comes as a result of the work done in building up the relationship. It unfolds when we have become comfortable and at ease with our conversation partner.
This is the approach taken to interpreting today’s Gospel lesson in an article recently published by Pastor Peter Marty. His writing helped me to realize that for most of my twenty-seven years of preaching, I have looked at Luke 11:1-11 and tried to explain how Jesus’ prayer, the one he taught the disciples to pray, is good instruction. Drawing on the works of Martin Luther, I would expose the nuances of Jesus’ prayer, explaining the depth and insight of each petition. I won’t insist that the position taken in this recent article is the only legitimate sermon to be preached, but I do have to say that he made a believer out of me. It may just be the case that when the disciples asked Jesus to teach them to pray, they weren’t looking for the correct words to speak, so much as begging him to help them transform their words to God from the guarded, cautious words of a newbie into the deep, honest expression of a well established and mutually appreciated relationship.
“Lord, teach us to pray.” Is the request the disciples make of Jesus. They had observed his prayer life; they had seen the ease with which he spoke to God and listened for God. This ease of interaction is what they were seeking; this is what they wanted. The limitations of language leave open the potential for misunderstanding. And, particularly for those who struggle with prayer, it is tempting to seek words or technique which might overcome a lack of intimacy. But learning to pray begins with learning to be at ease with the One whom we are addressing.
“Lord, teach us to pray.”
Let me acknowledge how difficult it is to talk, honestly, about this topic. What caught my eye about the article from Pastor Marty was his honesty in acknowledging his own struggles with prayer. Doing so is tough. It is revealing. It can be disastrous. I remember on internship being one of only two pastors present for a study of the upcoming Sunday’s texts. With an honesty that impressed me, my colleague talked about prayer, concluding with “If the people in my parish knew how much I struggled with this it would be all over.”
Early on, my spiritual director helped to realize that one’s prayer life is deeply intimate and not something that we easily talk about. The only things less likely to be discussed with members of the congregation are their finances. My experiences in ministry have bore this out. I have lots of pastoral conversations about concepts and ideas; fewer about prayer life or spiritual direction.
It is tough to talk about how we talk to God.
Now, if one is looking for a model, of what to say to God, then Luke 11 is your answer. There is a reason why we repeat this prayer every Sunday, and at most of the Church’s other gatherings. It captures well what it is that needs to be included in the content of our prayers. At some point, in the not so distant future, every one of us should review Martin Luther’s Small Catechism for support of this prayer as a form to be followed. Each petition is ripe with content.
But all of that content starts with the simplest of reminders that whenever we speak to God, we speak to one who loves us more than we could ever love back. Jesus instructs his disciples that all communication between us and God should be framed with an understanding that the exchange is between a loving parent and a devoted child. “When you pray, (begin your prayer by acknowledging God as) Father.”
Let me throw in an acknowledgment that not all father-child, or for that matter parent-child, relationships are as they should be. A group of us have been meeting on Sunday mornings to discuss Young’s novel The Shack. In that book, God appears to the main character as a woman. We are told, in the novel, that God does this as a way of avoiding the hurt and harm associated with the main character’s relationship with his biological father. Not all relationships with “fathers” or “mothers,” has been ideal. But, never-the-less, we ought to be able to understand the form such relationships ought to take. When lived out as God would hope, these relationships are the prime place where we experience unconditional love.
Jesus tells his disciples to approach God with such expectations. Jesus tells us to begin our prayer to God with the address used to talk to a loving parent. All the content in the world; everything that could possibly follow is eclipsed with the simple acknowledgment that our talk with God is not of the forced and strained variety, but rather the casual and comfortable exchanges which take place between persons who are deeply appreciative of each others person and their presence.
“When you pray, say: Father.”
You aren’t trying to talk God out of something that God doesn’t want you to have. You are not trying to hide from God all the things that God already knows. You are speaking with the one person in the whole of the cosmos who most wants you to be happy, and healthy, and whole. This is what parents do for us. This is why their blessing and their support is so important. And, when parenting wasn’t done in this way, why the children in such households have such difficulties throughout the rest of their lives. (There are other reasons why children can have extreme difficulties. No parent, no matter how loving can avoid them all. But when the children don’t have this unquestioned love, their battle is even more of an uphill struggle.)
“When you pray, say: Father.”
Prayer will (probably) always be difficult. It isn’t easy. It exposes us. And we have been taught, carefully taught, not to ever seem vulnerable or weak. Prayer is one of those topics we find it embarrassing to address. And seldom do we find ourselves in a relationship where we are comfortable sharing the details. God knows this; Jesus knew it. And while he may have wanted to be as helpful to his disciples as John was to those who followed him, Jesus realized that neither technique nor formula would enable his followers to overcome the obstacles. The only reason they would want to spend time talking and listen was if they first came to understand the relationship God is inviting them to enter.
“When you pray, say: Father.” And if you can’t think of anything more to say, you may have said enough.
Amen.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Sermon - July 11, 2010
Eighth Sunday after Pentecost - Year C
Luke 10:25-37
Guilt or Grateful
In the retelling of any story, things differ greatly depending upon the character with whom we identify. Typically, we refer to this reading from Luke 10 as the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It could just as easily be called the parable of the man who fell among robbers; or the parable of the preoccupied Priest; or the ritualistically pure Levite. In naming the story, we might be suggesting with whom it is that we want others to identify.
The “good Samaritan” is the one to whom the Church most often points. He becomes the model of Christian goodness and compassion. He is the model of what it means to care for others. He is the neighbor, assured of eternal life. Telling the story, with him as the focal point, makes it easy for a preacher to wrap things up neatly by saying, “Go and do likewise.”
And, we should – go and do likewise. We need to set aside our own agendas, fears, and apprehension long enough to be concerned about the other. It is important that we ask and do the thing which preserves life. If some story about an outcast doing the right thing can guilt us into do it too, so be it.
But I do wonder if guilt is the only, or even best, motivator. What happens if we see the story from the perspective of the man who is beaten? How do we experience the story when we identify not with the persons who have a choice of whether or not they will respond, but when we are the one who is lying in the ditch, dying.
With a little encouragement, I think we might be able to see the similarities between that poor, bloody individual and ourselves.
This man falls victim to the evil plot of others. He does nothing to deserve what happens to him. He is going down to Jericho, from Jerusalem. He falls, Jesus tells us, into the hands of robbers. Maybe he could have been more street smart; maybe he should have been packing a weapon; maybe he should have recognized the trap before it is sprung and made a McGuiver style escape. Maybe. But Jesus says that he “fell” into the hands of robbers - a phrase which could allow us to understand that he was not deserving of what happen, he is merely its victim. He didn’t deserve what happens to him.
Among us, there are those who do deserve what they get – there are some. But many more – most in fact – don’t. Evil happens. Bad things occur. And while some will find elaborate ways to construct a theory of just retribution, seldom do such attempts at logic hold water. I thought of Bob Bock, whose care-taking of Ruth was cut short by the mysterious sequence of events which took his life. Or what of Judy Morrison and her continuing problems with the leg; cared for by Roger, still recovering from his own heart surgery. Marylyn Thompson, whose fall caused so many problems, first it was the bruise to the head, then the constant pain from injuries to her lower back. It would be inconsiderate of me to name the examples of emotional distress or chemical addition – shared with me in pastoral care conversations – but you are aware of these and understand how dark it can be and you know that such suffering is surely undeserved.
We are the man who fell among robbers. We are the one who lies in the ditch, hoping someone will notice us and take pity on us.
This is the interpretation of the story favored by Augustine and Martin Luther. In re-telling this parable, Luther identified the Good Samaritan with Jesus and assigned the other roles accordingly. With such an interpretation, those in the ditch can take heart. There is hope; there is reason to believe that we will be noticed. Christ has seen us and will come to us, bind up our wounds, and provide for our care.
As undeservedly as is the calamity which befell us, so also is there no reason to take credit for the rescue which follows. The man does nothing to deserve it. It simply comes his way. The good Samaritan (Jesus) finds us.
I think this may be a helpful way to understand the story. The lengths to which we will go in order to preserve the notion of things happening for a reason and as a result of what one deserves also come into play when we move into discussions of those who receive aid. All too often we continue the mistaken notion that those who receive assistance did something or do something which makes them rise to the top. The parable of Luke 10 instructs us that this simply is not the case.
If receiving mercy depends upon doing the right thing then it would have been the priest or the Levite who would have responded to this man. A parable is short, by design, and many details are left to one’s imagination. The assumption is safe that the man who fell among robbers is himself a member of the Temple, of the people of Yahweh. He may have been known, in his pre-victim existence, by the Priest or the Levite. Jesus dispels the notion that we are wounded because we deserve it and he breaks the impression that we are aided because we deserve it by making the one who reaches out to the man a lowly, despised Samaritan.
Samaritans were half-breeds. Despised by the Jews, they were considered unclean and unworthy of entering the Temple. There is at least the possibility that the man who lies in the ditch shared the racist attitudes of Jesus’ hearers – that he might have also recoiled at the notion of being touched by someone who is an infidel.
And yet, this is the man who comes to his aid. This is the messenger of God who does the right thing.
Lying in the ditch, bleeding to death, all our prejudices are open for re-evaluation. Lying in the ditch, bleeding to death, we cannot afford to hold on to the mistaken notion that everyone gets what they deserve. Lying there, we understand what grace is all about.
God comes to us; God sends his messengers to us without merit or action on our part. God reaches out to us and cares for us, regardless of our ability to reach out to Him.
For most of our lives, we are like the Priest or the Levite – we are the ones capable of deciding what course of action will be taken. But isn’t it comforting to know that when things are beyond our control and we become the helpless victim lying in the ditch that God’s grace is there in plentiful supply.
Amen.
Luke 10:25-37
Guilt or Grateful
In the retelling of any story, things differ greatly depending upon the character with whom we identify. Typically, we refer to this reading from Luke 10 as the Parable of the Good Samaritan. It could just as easily be called the parable of the man who fell among robbers; or the parable of the preoccupied Priest; or the ritualistically pure Levite. In naming the story, we might be suggesting with whom it is that we want others to identify.
The “good Samaritan” is the one to whom the Church most often points. He becomes the model of Christian goodness and compassion. He is the model of what it means to care for others. He is the neighbor, assured of eternal life. Telling the story, with him as the focal point, makes it easy for a preacher to wrap things up neatly by saying, “Go and do likewise.”
And, we should – go and do likewise. We need to set aside our own agendas, fears, and apprehension long enough to be concerned about the other. It is important that we ask and do the thing which preserves life. If some story about an outcast doing the right thing can guilt us into do it too, so be it.
But I do wonder if guilt is the only, or even best, motivator. What happens if we see the story from the perspective of the man who is beaten? How do we experience the story when we identify not with the persons who have a choice of whether or not they will respond, but when we are the one who is lying in the ditch, dying.
With a little encouragement, I think we might be able to see the similarities between that poor, bloody individual and ourselves.
This man falls victim to the evil plot of others. He does nothing to deserve what happens to him. He is going down to Jericho, from Jerusalem. He falls, Jesus tells us, into the hands of robbers. Maybe he could have been more street smart; maybe he should have been packing a weapon; maybe he should have recognized the trap before it is sprung and made a McGuiver style escape. Maybe. But Jesus says that he “fell” into the hands of robbers - a phrase which could allow us to understand that he was not deserving of what happen, he is merely its victim. He didn’t deserve what happens to him.
Among us, there are those who do deserve what they get – there are some. But many more – most in fact – don’t. Evil happens. Bad things occur. And while some will find elaborate ways to construct a theory of just retribution, seldom do such attempts at logic hold water. I thought of Bob Bock, whose care-taking of Ruth was cut short by the mysterious sequence of events which took his life. Or what of Judy Morrison and her continuing problems with the leg; cared for by Roger, still recovering from his own heart surgery. Marylyn Thompson, whose fall caused so many problems, first it was the bruise to the head, then the constant pain from injuries to her lower back. It would be inconsiderate of me to name the examples of emotional distress or chemical addition – shared with me in pastoral care conversations – but you are aware of these and understand how dark it can be and you know that such suffering is surely undeserved.
We are the man who fell among robbers. We are the one who lies in the ditch, hoping someone will notice us and take pity on us.
This is the interpretation of the story favored by Augustine and Martin Luther. In re-telling this parable, Luther identified the Good Samaritan with Jesus and assigned the other roles accordingly. With such an interpretation, those in the ditch can take heart. There is hope; there is reason to believe that we will be noticed. Christ has seen us and will come to us, bind up our wounds, and provide for our care.
As undeservedly as is the calamity which befell us, so also is there no reason to take credit for the rescue which follows. The man does nothing to deserve it. It simply comes his way. The good Samaritan (Jesus) finds us.
I think this may be a helpful way to understand the story. The lengths to which we will go in order to preserve the notion of things happening for a reason and as a result of what one deserves also come into play when we move into discussions of those who receive aid. All too often we continue the mistaken notion that those who receive assistance did something or do something which makes them rise to the top. The parable of Luke 10 instructs us that this simply is not the case.
If receiving mercy depends upon doing the right thing then it would have been the priest or the Levite who would have responded to this man. A parable is short, by design, and many details are left to one’s imagination. The assumption is safe that the man who fell among robbers is himself a member of the Temple, of the people of Yahweh. He may have been known, in his pre-victim existence, by the Priest or the Levite. Jesus dispels the notion that we are wounded because we deserve it and he breaks the impression that we are aided because we deserve it by making the one who reaches out to the man a lowly, despised Samaritan.
Samaritans were half-breeds. Despised by the Jews, they were considered unclean and unworthy of entering the Temple. There is at least the possibility that the man who lies in the ditch shared the racist attitudes of Jesus’ hearers – that he might have also recoiled at the notion of being touched by someone who is an infidel.
And yet, this is the man who comes to his aid. This is the messenger of God who does the right thing.
Lying in the ditch, bleeding to death, all our prejudices are open for re-evaluation. Lying in the ditch, bleeding to death, we cannot afford to hold on to the mistaken notion that everyone gets what they deserve. Lying there, we understand what grace is all about.
God comes to us; God sends his messengers to us without merit or action on our part. God reaches out to us and cares for us, regardless of our ability to reach out to Him.
For most of our lives, we are like the Priest or the Levite – we are the ones capable of deciding what course of action will be taken. But isn’t it comforting to know that when things are beyond our control and we become the helpless victim lying in the ditch that God’s grace is there in plentiful supply.
Amen.
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Sermon - June 27, 2010
5th Sunday after Pentecost
I Kings 19:15-16, 19-21 & Luke 9:51-62
That to Which our Heart Clings
I will apologize ahead of time, in case you are not one of those who appreciates sports references. I would agree with you, and make use of a cliché, in noting that sometimes it does seem as if we are caught up in a culture determined to “amuse ourselves to death.” BUT, did you get caught up in the excitement of that tennis match which began last Tuesday and stretched all the way to Thursday? In case you didn’t, and aren’t sure you heard me, the game started on Tuesday and was not completed till Thursday. They did stop at night – no lights on the courts where they were playing – but the match lasted 10 hours. 10 hours. That is a long time to play tennis. The pair involved, knew they were making history. They also knew that they were extremely tired. But what were they going to do? One reporter, a former tennis player, surmised how they might be feeling. “You can’t just stop. Someone, eventually, has to win the match.”
“You can’t just stop.” I am not so sure about that. I think I might have found a way to stop, after the first 125 games or so.
But then again, I probably wouldn’t have, had I been one of the two. I would hope that I would have had the strength and the dedication to remain faithful to that which I had set out to do. The reporter is right, “You can’t just stop.” Not, if that toward which you are striving, is the goal you desire above all else.
Jesus is with his disciples. He is talking to them about things which really matter. He is vetting the group, to see whether they will “just stop;” or whether they have the strength and dedication to continue on. They seem energetic enough. Two of them, James and John, are even ready to bring in the heavy equipment. But Jesus needs to know whether they are indeed in this to the end, or if they would be inclined to “just stop” when the hours get long and the course becomes difficult.
One of the downsides to having our lessons printed on the back of our bulletins, rather than finding them in our individual Bibles, is the difficulty in understanding the context in which these 12 verses occur. Jesus is about to appoint the 70, who will fan out from the tight group of followers, in order to proclaim the good news which Jesus announced in the temple in Nazareth. There will be celebrations associated with their work; there will also be disappointments. It is not the success of the messengers which concerns Jesus; his interest is their dedication to the task. He wants to say something to them which will prevent them from stopping when the task proves to be more exhausting than they had anticipated.
“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head,” he tells them. “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God,” he reminds them of their task. And finally, he states clearly what he expects of them, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
If two guys playing tennis understand how important it is to keep going, shouldn’t it be said of Jesus’ followers that there is no quit in us, either? No quit, even though the going is not always going to be easy or simple.
On most Sundays, there is a gentle suggestion that as Christians we have it easier than our forebears in the faith - our Jewish ancestors. But not on this day. When Elisha is called/when he is invited to follow the way of the Lord he is allowed to return home, cook a ceremonial meal and say his good-byes. That may have been the way it happened to Elisha, but when the prophet of the New Covenant casts his mantle upon potential followers, he gives them no opportunity to place their houses in order. “Let the dead bury their own dead,” Jesus says. “You have other work to do.”
“Foxes have holes...”
Jesus wasn’t looking back. He is so set on getting to Jerusalem and getting down to the serious business that he looks right past the folks he is currently with. We have an image in our minds that as long as Jesus was traveling along, through the countryside, that the crowds kept flocking to him. We have this image of a gentle and caring Jesus moving from one town to another as he preaches, teaches and heals the sick. We carry with us this notion that it was only when he got to Jerusalem were there was political intrigue and power struggles that folks began to reject him. But no, this isn’t the way it happened. Here, only nine chapters into Luke’s Gospel, we already see a shift. A change has happened in Jesus. A transformation (perhaps transfiguration) has altered the way Jesus sees those along the way and the way they experi¬ence him. He set his face to go to Jerusalem. This village of the Samaritans would not accept him. They could tell that he wasn’t really with them, he was looking past them. He had his eyes focused on where he was going and he wasn’t going to look back or even from side to side.¬
When Jesus calls his disciples he invites them to join him in this single-minded mission.
My personal notes on this passage include a comment made in a bible study that at no other point in the gospels does anyone turn down a direct invitation from Jesus to “Come and follow.” The rich young man doesn’t follow Jesus, but the interaction which leads to that invitation was initiated by the young man, not by Jesus. Here, it is Jesus who does the asking and his invitation is rejected. My fellow bible-study participant pointed out that nowhere else in scripture is an invitation initiated and extended by Jesus meet with rejection.
The village could tell that his face was set to go to Jerusalem. When asked to come along, it was obvious that this was serious business.
And it is serious business. Serious for Jesus, serious for them, serious for you and me.
“Our god,” writes Luther, “is that to which our heart clings.” Some will cling to their power and prestige. The hearts of others will cling to their material possessions. Still others will find themselves occupied with family and friends. I often find myself concerned that I have let community service become the central focus of my heart. While all of these things are important - vitally important - none are worthy of the prime devotion of our heart. Only One can occupy that space and in so doing enable us to satisfy all others aspirations. Our hearts must cling to Christ.
This is what Jesus is inviting his hearers to do. He wants to find out whether there are things - any things - which are more central to the lives of his followers. He knows that nothing else can bear the weight and responsibility of being one’s Savior.
When the village of the Samaritans reject Jesus, James and John want to call upon the heavens to rain fire down upon them. Jesus rebukes James and John for suggesting such a thing. Failing to embrace this harsh call to disciple¬ship does not lead to God’s punishment. The inability to make Christ the thing to which our heart clings means that we have missed a wonderful opportunity. Jesus has not desire to further punish those who refused to become his disciples. Their choosing to adhere to something else is tragic enough. The Kingdom of God had come close to them, so very close to them, and they had failed to join in.
When our hearts cling to Christ all of earth and all of the heavens are ours. Nothing stands in our way and nothing will ever overcome us. This is the promise; this is the hope; this is the faith of the Church, the faith in which we baptize.
Amen.
I Kings 19:15-16, 19-21 & Luke 9:51-62
That to Which our Heart Clings
I will apologize ahead of time, in case you are not one of those who appreciates sports references. I would agree with you, and make use of a cliché, in noting that sometimes it does seem as if we are caught up in a culture determined to “amuse ourselves to death.” BUT, did you get caught up in the excitement of that tennis match which began last Tuesday and stretched all the way to Thursday? In case you didn’t, and aren’t sure you heard me, the game started on Tuesday and was not completed till Thursday. They did stop at night – no lights on the courts where they were playing – but the match lasted 10 hours. 10 hours. That is a long time to play tennis. The pair involved, knew they were making history. They also knew that they were extremely tired. But what were they going to do? One reporter, a former tennis player, surmised how they might be feeling. “You can’t just stop. Someone, eventually, has to win the match.”
“You can’t just stop.” I am not so sure about that. I think I might have found a way to stop, after the first 125 games or so.
But then again, I probably wouldn’t have, had I been one of the two. I would hope that I would have had the strength and the dedication to remain faithful to that which I had set out to do. The reporter is right, “You can’t just stop.” Not, if that toward which you are striving, is the goal you desire above all else.
Jesus is with his disciples. He is talking to them about things which really matter. He is vetting the group, to see whether they will “just stop;” or whether they have the strength and dedication to continue on. They seem energetic enough. Two of them, James and John, are even ready to bring in the heavy equipment. But Jesus needs to know whether they are indeed in this to the end, or if they would be inclined to “just stop” when the hours get long and the course becomes difficult.
One of the downsides to having our lessons printed on the back of our bulletins, rather than finding them in our individual Bibles, is the difficulty in understanding the context in which these 12 verses occur. Jesus is about to appoint the 70, who will fan out from the tight group of followers, in order to proclaim the good news which Jesus announced in the temple in Nazareth. There will be celebrations associated with their work; there will also be disappointments. It is not the success of the messengers which concerns Jesus; his interest is their dedication to the task. He wants to say something to them which will prevent them from stopping when the task proves to be more exhausting than they had anticipated.
“Foxes have holes, and birds of the air have nests; but the Son of Man has nowhere to lay his head,” he tells them. “Let the dead bury their own dead; but as for you, go and proclaim the kingdom of God,” he reminds them of their task. And finally, he states clearly what he expects of them, “No one who puts a hand to the plow and looks back is fit for the kingdom of God.”
If two guys playing tennis understand how important it is to keep going, shouldn’t it be said of Jesus’ followers that there is no quit in us, either? No quit, even though the going is not always going to be easy or simple.
On most Sundays, there is a gentle suggestion that as Christians we have it easier than our forebears in the faith - our Jewish ancestors. But not on this day. When Elisha is called/when he is invited to follow the way of the Lord he is allowed to return home, cook a ceremonial meal and say his good-byes. That may have been the way it happened to Elisha, but when the prophet of the New Covenant casts his mantle upon potential followers, he gives them no opportunity to place their houses in order. “Let the dead bury their own dead,” Jesus says. “You have other work to do.”
“Foxes have holes...”
Jesus wasn’t looking back. He is so set on getting to Jerusalem and getting down to the serious business that he looks right past the folks he is currently with. We have an image in our minds that as long as Jesus was traveling along, through the countryside, that the crowds kept flocking to him. We have this image of a gentle and caring Jesus moving from one town to another as he preaches, teaches and heals the sick. We carry with us this notion that it was only when he got to Jerusalem were there was political intrigue and power struggles that folks began to reject him. But no, this isn’t the way it happened. Here, only nine chapters into Luke’s Gospel, we already see a shift. A change has happened in Jesus. A transformation (perhaps transfiguration) has altered the way Jesus sees those along the way and the way they experi¬ence him. He set his face to go to Jerusalem. This village of the Samaritans would not accept him. They could tell that he wasn’t really with them, he was looking past them. He had his eyes focused on where he was going and he wasn’t going to look back or even from side to side.¬
When Jesus calls his disciples he invites them to join him in this single-minded mission.
My personal notes on this passage include a comment made in a bible study that at no other point in the gospels does anyone turn down a direct invitation from Jesus to “Come and follow.” The rich young man doesn’t follow Jesus, but the interaction which leads to that invitation was initiated by the young man, not by Jesus. Here, it is Jesus who does the asking and his invitation is rejected. My fellow bible-study participant pointed out that nowhere else in scripture is an invitation initiated and extended by Jesus meet with rejection.
The village could tell that his face was set to go to Jerusalem. When asked to come along, it was obvious that this was serious business.
And it is serious business. Serious for Jesus, serious for them, serious for you and me.
“Our god,” writes Luther, “is that to which our heart clings.” Some will cling to their power and prestige. The hearts of others will cling to their material possessions. Still others will find themselves occupied with family and friends. I often find myself concerned that I have let community service become the central focus of my heart. While all of these things are important - vitally important - none are worthy of the prime devotion of our heart. Only One can occupy that space and in so doing enable us to satisfy all others aspirations. Our hearts must cling to Christ.
This is what Jesus is inviting his hearers to do. He wants to find out whether there are things - any things - which are more central to the lives of his followers. He knows that nothing else can bear the weight and responsibility of being one’s Savior.
When the village of the Samaritans reject Jesus, James and John want to call upon the heavens to rain fire down upon them. Jesus rebukes James and John for suggesting such a thing. Failing to embrace this harsh call to disciple¬ship does not lead to God’s punishment. The inability to make Christ the thing to which our heart clings means that we have missed a wonderful opportunity. Jesus has not desire to further punish those who refused to become his disciples. Their choosing to adhere to something else is tragic enough. The Kingdom of God had come close to them, so very close to them, and they had failed to join in.
When our hearts cling to Christ all of earth and all of the heavens are ours. Nothing stands in our way and nothing will ever overcome us. This is the promise; this is the hope; this is the faith of the Church, the faith in which we baptize.
Amen.
Sunday, June 13, 2010
Sermon - June 13, 2010
Pentecost 3 - Year C
2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, 13-15
Being a “Have,” and wanting more
Few stories in the Bible have a greater potential to upset our lives than today’s reading from 2 Samuel. In this story, the greed of King David is exposed. This story makes clear the destructive nature of our self-indulgence and our tendency to horde. Nathan makes King David, and each of us who reads of the encounter, aware that sexual lust isn’t the temptation to be most feared. It is our coveting which separates us from God and from one another.
This reading is in our regular cycle of appointed texts. I should admit that I look forward to its arrival. I didn’t look ahead, so I could request this as one of my Sundays to preach, but I would have, with the knowledge that this would be the reading. Few texts provide as clear an opportunity to address the misconstrued hierarchy of sin, so often championed in our self-centered and self-serving society. This reading is like a fat fast ball, delivered to the middle of the plate. The only regret I have is that my fixation with 2 Samuel won’t allow me to also speak of Luke 7. That story makes the same point. Here again, it is envy – envy of Jesus’ acceptance of the woman… who was a sinner – which erects a barrier between Simon and his guest of honor. Rather than be grateful for all that Jesus is offering him, Simon wants more. He wants to be the one to whom Jesus gives his full attention. Simon doesn’t want anyone to be more important in Jesus’ life than himself. It is a bit like those who think that being a Christian is all about getting to heaven. Their misplaced focus prevents them from receiving the goodness of God’s grace and mercy and living the life which is its self eternal. Like I said – lots there. But too little time to touch on it all.
Because, I want to take you back to the story of David and Bathsheba and Uriah and Nathan. It is never safe to assume that folks know the story. A bit of what happened is repeated in Nathan’s words to David, but let’s make sure what have the whole picture.
It started with a look. David is on his roof-top and he looks over and sees Bathsheba bathing. He desires her, even though he already has many wives. He also knows that she is married, to Uriah, the Hittite, a soldier in King David’s army. Never-the-less, David insists on having her as his own. When a child is conceived, David tries to hide his transgression by calling Uriah home from the battlefield. Being a devoted soldier, Uriah sleeps on the doorstep of his house, refusing the comforts of his bed while his fellow soldiers are still in the field. David tries to get Uriah drunk, so he will forget his dedication. This doesn’t work either.
Finally, King David sends Uriah, the soldier, back to the battlefield along with the instructions that Uriah is to be placed at the front and when the battle becomes fierce, the rest of the soldiers are to fall back. Uriah does die, at the sword of the Ammonites. But they are merely the vessel in King David’s plan. He is the man - the rich man - who takes from the poor man his one precious little lamb. His coveting lies at the root of his transgression.
We are a culture which has become obsessed with sex. It is used in order to sell products as diverse as wristwatches and low-fat cereals. As a result, the Church has all too often seen sex and sensuality as the core cause of all transgression. We have made sexual sins the most damning, ignoring along the way – perhaps - other sins and transgressions. As a result, when we read the story of David and Bathsheba we think of it as a tale of lust. Nathan’s confrontation with David allows us to see God’s concern with the root problem – David’s desire for more, his addiction to excess.
It has been argued that Augustine is at least in part to blame. It was in the 4th century that the Church fathers began to write of sin as those prime urges which we could not control. They had good reasons for this. The Stoics had for hundreds of years insisted that moving to a higher consciousness involved domination over our more base selves. They attempted to be more in control - in control of one’s thoughts, one’s emotions. Controlling these made it easy, or so it was suggested, to control our actions.
When St. Paul spoke of sin he spoke of desiring what we wanted, but could not have. He suggests that “coveting” is where all sin begins.
We do covet our neighbor’s wife (or husband.) The 9th commandment also speaks of coveting the neighbor’s manservant or maidservant. Perhaps these might be suggestions of sensuality. But I don’t think so. I believe Luther had it right when he says that this commandment is about helping our neighbor remain in loyal relationships with spouse, servants, and even cattle. Transgression occurs when we lure them away.
King David wants what isn’t his. He takes it. He denies his neighbor his one price possession. David didn’t need Bathsheba. He wanted her. He wanted her even though she belonged to another.
How many wives did David need? How many lambs could he place upon the table? How could he be so blind as to think that he was entitled to whatever he saw? Who would be so cruel as to take what little another has?
In the end, what I want to say is that one of the advantages in making sexual sins front and center of our religious zeal is that all the noise can help drown out talk of the sins of which Jesus most often spoke. He does talk about physical stuff, a little. But, you would be hard pressed to read a full page of any of the Gospels and not come across a reference to wealth and riches. Heck, rich and poor are even the framework for Nathan’s story to David. It is much less discomforting to focus on sexual sins, because it is pretty easy to feel okay about ourselves – at least most of the time. But, when we talk about our wealth things are more upsetting. And, it is not as easy to do something about. Not as easy, because it is really difficult for us to admit that we are the ones who need to do anything at all.
I own a house, five cars, four TV’s, three laptop computers – and I have the audacity to act like I am doing a wonderful thing when I spend three hours on a Saturday morning putting shingles on a Habitat house.
American Christians do have a problem. It is our wealth. It is our un-checked belief that we have a right to all this and that it is okay for us to continue to use more and more of the world’s resources in order to feed our out-of-control appetites. When we see what someone else has – we want that, too.
I hope and pray that you will never again be able to read the story of David and Bathsheba and think of it simply as a story about lust. Nathan, the prophet, tells David that his sin is the sin of coveting. Nathan, the prophet, helps David to see that having a lot sometimes blinds us to the realities of life for those who have very little. With a long and cruel finger, Nathan points out to David that he is “the man”. This same finger needs to be pointed at each of us.
Amen.
2 Samuel 11:26-12:10, 13-15
Being a “Have,” and wanting more
Few stories in the Bible have a greater potential to upset our lives than today’s reading from 2 Samuel. In this story, the greed of King David is exposed. This story makes clear the destructive nature of our self-indulgence and our tendency to horde. Nathan makes King David, and each of us who reads of the encounter, aware that sexual lust isn’t the temptation to be most feared. It is our coveting which separates us from God and from one another.
This reading is in our regular cycle of appointed texts. I should admit that I look forward to its arrival. I didn’t look ahead, so I could request this as one of my Sundays to preach, but I would have, with the knowledge that this would be the reading. Few texts provide as clear an opportunity to address the misconstrued hierarchy of sin, so often championed in our self-centered and self-serving society. This reading is like a fat fast ball, delivered to the middle of the plate. The only regret I have is that my fixation with 2 Samuel won’t allow me to also speak of Luke 7. That story makes the same point. Here again, it is envy – envy of Jesus’ acceptance of the woman… who was a sinner – which erects a barrier between Simon and his guest of honor. Rather than be grateful for all that Jesus is offering him, Simon wants more. He wants to be the one to whom Jesus gives his full attention. Simon doesn’t want anyone to be more important in Jesus’ life than himself. It is a bit like those who think that being a Christian is all about getting to heaven. Their misplaced focus prevents them from receiving the goodness of God’s grace and mercy and living the life which is its self eternal. Like I said – lots there. But too little time to touch on it all.
Because, I want to take you back to the story of David and Bathsheba and Uriah and Nathan. It is never safe to assume that folks know the story. A bit of what happened is repeated in Nathan’s words to David, but let’s make sure what have the whole picture.
It started with a look. David is on his roof-top and he looks over and sees Bathsheba bathing. He desires her, even though he already has many wives. He also knows that she is married, to Uriah, the Hittite, a soldier in King David’s army. Never-the-less, David insists on having her as his own. When a child is conceived, David tries to hide his transgression by calling Uriah home from the battlefield. Being a devoted soldier, Uriah sleeps on the doorstep of his house, refusing the comforts of his bed while his fellow soldiers are still in the field. David tries to get Uriah drunk, so he will forget his dedication. This doesn’t work either.
Finally, King David sends Uriah, the soldier, back to the battlefield along with the instructions that Uriah is to be placed at the front and when the battle becomes fierce, the rest of the soldiers are to fall back. Uriah does die, at the sword of the Ammonites. But they are merely the vessel in King David’s plan. He is the man - the rich man - who takes from the poor man his one precious little lamb. His coveting lies at the root of his transgression.
We are a culture which has become obsessed with sex. It is used in order to sell products as diverse as wristwatches and low-fat cereals. As a result, the Church has all too often seen sex and sensuality as the core cause of all transgression. We have made sexual sins the most damning, ignoring along the way – perhaps - other sins and transgressions. As a result, when we read the story of David and Bathsheba we think of it as a tale of lust. Nathan’s confrontation with David allows us to see God’s concern with the root problem – David’s desire for more, his addiction to excess.
It has been argued that Augustine is at least in part to blame. It was in the 4th century that the Church fathers began to write of sin as those prime urges which we could not control. They had good reasons for this. The Stoics had for hundreds of years insisted that moving to a higher consciousness involved domination over our more base selves. They attempted to be more in control - in control of one’s thoughts, one’s emotions. Controlling these made it easy, or so it was suggested, to control our actions.
When St. Paul spoke of sin he spoke of desiring what we wanted, but could not have. He suggests that “coveting” is where all sin begins.
We do covet our neighbor’s wife (or husband.) The 9th commandment also speaks of coveting the neighbor’s manservant or maidservant. Perhaps these might be suggestions of sensuality. But I don’t think so. I believe Luther had it right when he says that this commandment is about helping our neighbor remain in loyal relationships with spouse, servants, and even cattle. Transgression occurs when we lure them away.
King David wants what isn’t his. He takes it. He denies his neighbor his one price possession. David didn’t need Bathsheba. He wanted her. He wanted her even though she belonged to another.
How many wives did David need? How many lambs could he place upon the table? How could he be so blind as to think that he was entitled to whatever he saw? Who would be so cruel as to take what little another has?
In the end, what I want to say is that one of the advantages in making sexual sins front and center of our religious zeal is that all the noise can help drown out talk of the sins of which Jesus most often spoke. He does talk about physical stuff, a little. But, you would be hard pressed to read a full page of any of the Gospels and not come across a reference to wealth and riches. Heck, rich and poor are even the framework for Nathan’s story to David. It is much less discomforting to focus on sexual sins, because it is pretty easy to feel okay about ourselves – at least most of the time. But, when we talk about our wealth things are more upsetting. And, it is not as easy to do something about. Not as easy, because it is really difficult for us to admit that we are the ones who need to do anything at all.
I own a house, five cars, four TV’s, three laptop computers – and I have the audacity to act like I am doing a wonderful thing when I spend three hours on a Saturday morning putting shingles on a Habitat house.
American Christians do have a problem. It is our wealth. It is our un-checked belief that we have a right to all this and that it is okay for us to continue to use more and more of the world’s resources in order to feed our out-of-control appetites. When we see what someone else has – we want that, too.
I hope and pray that you will never again be able to read the story of David and Bathsheba and think of it simply as a story about lust. Nathan, the prophet, tells David that his sin is the sin of coveting. Nathan, the prophet, helps David to see that having a lot sometimes blinds us to the realities of life for those who have very little. With a long and cruel finger, Nathan points out to David that he is “the man”. This same finger needs to be pointed at each of us.
Amen.
Sunday, May 30, 2010
Sermon - Trinity Sunday - May 30, 2010
We Are Triune Christians
It is all about perspective. If you talk to your neighbors (maybe even some of your family members who attend differing Christian denominations) you will find that not everyone will return home today with a bulletin identifying this as “Trinity Sunday.” From the perspective of some, this is a manufactured holiday, an event which is not biblical. The way in which we view the same thing, can differ greatly. There are many perspectives.
I was working this through yesterday morning when I decided to take a break and call Cindy Sanders to see how her knee surgery had gone. After discussing her incisions and recovery, conversation turned to my attempts to prepare for this morning. I complained, just a little, about having to get back in the pulpit so quickly after three weeks of vacation. That may have been my perspective, but Cindy reflected another: “You’ve been on vacation forever. It is about time to get back to work.”
According to Webster’s, perspective means to “look through.” The lens we look through affects how we see that at which we are looking.
We can be encouraged to see things differently by being told the perspective through which we might look. Caleb left for camp this week. He is working for a second summer at Lutheridge. As he was preparing to leave, I reminded him that in his absence it is highly likely that house guests will use his bedroom and that I was hoping it would be clean. “It is clean,” he replied. I walked with him to the room and shared with him the perspective through which I viewed the placement of items in the corner or on the floor of the closet. By sharing my perspective, he was able to see the room differently.
We do reflect a particular perspective when we insist on speaking of God as a Trinity. While practically all Christians will use Father-Son-Holy Spirit language, not every expression of Christianity will observe Trinity Sunday, making it a focal point of their worship life. We do. We do so every year. Just like Christmas and Easter and Pentecost, Trinity Sunday is set on our calendars as one of the major Church festivals. It is a perspective which we encourage others to share. It is a perspective which we believe to be essential as well as informative.
One God, three persons; indivisible, yet distinct. This is the way we talk about God; this is the way we understand God.
Before they were called “Christians,” the followers of Jesus were referred to as participants in “The Way.” Before there were official Church statements, there was a whole plethora of statements of understanding. Yes, it is completely true (and never denied,) that there are other “gospels” out there, in addition the four collected in our bibles (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) and it is also true (and never denied,) that they speak quite differently about Jesus and about his relationship with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Those Church statements decided which perspectives were to be embraced (some would want to say “allowed”) and which were to be relegated to informative, but not normative.
This perspective, which we now share, was not universally shared by all those who in the first century A.D. were trying to figure out what all this means.
In the beginning, members of “The Way,” would not have referred to God as Triune. They had the core teachings which lead to the formation of the Doctrines associated with God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But, they would not have used that formula, nor insisted that each worship service begin and end with it.
So, while the ELCA (and practically every other modern expression of Christianity) insists on a Trinitarian perspective, it is true that this perspective has not always been present, and would not have flowed so freely from the lips of Jesus’ earliest followers.
Over time, it is the perspective which followers of Jesus came to share. They/we found this perspective to be helpful and informative. Seeing God as One God, in three persons, allowed us to see in its entirety the message which Jesus taught.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit. These are the “names” associated with the Triune God. Some prefer to refer to the functions of these three, so you will hear formulas like Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier. The perspective being sought is one in which God is understood as larger than and more complete than anything we could envision or describe. God needs three names to even begin to speak of who he is and what he does.
God the Father/God the Creator, is an acknowledgment that in God all things find their ground of being. Who we are is rooted in God. We are all God’s creation; everyone one of us. The God whom we worship is the maker of all things. The God to whom we offer our prayers, is the One who called all things into being. When we insist on a Triune perspective we are instructing followers that no one in the whole of God’s creation is to been seen as anything less than one of God’s children. Everyone, in the whole of creation. It matters not their creed or their ethnic heritage or the color of their skin.
Who we are, is summed up in the acknowledgment that God is our Father/our creator. Regardless of what comes after, regardless of what we do with our lives, we are God’s.
In talking about the Son, it is helpful if we begin with the opening words of John’s Gospel. John writes, In the beginning was the Word, he tells us that this Word of God called into being everything which is. After painting a marvelous vision of the power and strength of this Word of God, he tells us that this Word has become flesh and dwelt among us.
The Son, the Redeemer, is that part of God’s person which seeks to be known. It is the facet of God’s person which allows us to understand. It is that self-expression of God which liberates us from the fears associated with darkness and death. We have come to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, the One sent among us to save us.
Within the Trinity, the Son embodies what it is that we believe and teach. It is the invitation from God to think right thoughts.
The name of the third person of the Trinity is the one which varies the most. Like many of you, I grew up referring to the third person as the Holy Ghost. “Ghost” language begins to be changed to “Spirit” language sometime around the early 70’s. “Spirit” is a better word. And “Ghost” has too many non-religious connotations. In scripture, this third person is referred to as the “Paracleat,” or more simply, “Helper.” In another part of John’s Gospel, the Spirit is called “the Advocate.” The Spirit is that part of God which guides us into righteous living.
It is the Spirit which gives meaning to our sighs, to those expressions of our hearts too deep for us to even understand. It is the Spirit who nudges us in the right direction or serves as a check on our wanton desires.
The Spirit is concerned with how we live. The Spirit addresses the realization that God not only concerns God’s self with who we are and what we think but also with what we do. Salvation may be associated with the second person of the Trinity, but our relationship with God isn’t complete unless we are also actively seeking sanctification.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit; Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier; who we are – what we believe – how we live or lives; the perspective shared among those committed to this articulation of the Christian faith is that all of this matters. Who we are – what we believe – how we lives our lives; you can’t really claim to be a participant in the Way of Jesus unless all three are embraced.
The Doctrine of the Trinity is one of those Church statements which developed over time, reaching it final formulation centuries after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Those who formulated the Doctrine (and those accept the Doctrine) believe that all of the parts are there in the earliest writings. Most importantly, we see in the Doctrine of the Trinity a way to direct the perspectives of those who would seek to become Christian, encouraging them to see all that there is to be seen when one considers who God is and what it is that God calls upon us to do.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit.
Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier.
Who we are – what we believe – how we live our lives.
Our identity as Christians includes all three.
Amen.
It is all about perspective. If you talk to your neighbors (maybe even some of your family members who attend differing Christian denominations) you will find that not everyone will return home today with a bulletin identifying this as “Trinity Sunday.” From the perspective of some, this is a manufactured holiday, an event which is not biblical. The way in which we view the same thing, can differ greatly. There are many perspectives.
I was working this through yesterday morning when I decided to take a break and call Cindy Sanders to see how her knee surgery had gone. After discussing her incisions and recovery, conversation turned to my attempts to prepare for this morning. I complained, just a little, about having to get back in the pulpit so quickly after three weeks of vacation. That may have been my perspective, but Cindy reflected another: “You’ve been on vacation forever. It is about time to get back to work.”
According to Webster’s, perspective means to “look through.” The lens we look through affects how we see that at which we are looking.
We can be encouraged to see things differently by being told the perspective through which we might look. Caleb left for camp this week. He is working for a second summer at Lutheridge. As he was preparing to leave, I reminded him that in his absence it is highly likely that house guests will use his bedroom and that I was hoping it would be clean. “It is clean,” he replied. I walked with him to the room and shared with him the perspective through which I viewed the placement of items in the corner or on the floor of the closet. By sharing my perspective, he was able to see the room differently.
We do reflect a particular perspective when we insist on speaking of God as a Trinity. While practically all Christians will use Father-Son-Holy Spirit language, not every expression of Christianity will observe Trinity Sunday, making it a focal point of their worship life. We do. We do so every year. Just like Christmas and Easter and Pentecost, Trinity Sunday is set on our calendars as one of the major Church festivals. It is a perspective which we encourage others to share. It is a perspective which we believe to be essential as well as informative.
One God, three persons; indivisible, yet distinct. This is the way we talk about God; this is the way we understand God.
Before they were called “Christians,” the followers of Jesus were referred to as participants in “The Way.” Before there were official Church statements, there was a whole plethora of statements of understanding. Yes, it is completely true (and never denied,) that there are other “gospels” out there, in addition the four collected in our bibles (Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John) and it is also true (and never denied,) that they speak quite differently about Jesus and about his relationship with the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. Those Church statements decided which perspectives were to be embraced (some would want to say “allowed”) and which were to be relegated to informative, but not normative.
This perspective, which we now share, was not universally shared by all those who in the first century A.D. were trying to figure out what all this means.
In the beginning, members of “The Way,” would not have referred to God as Triune. They had the core teachings which lead to the formation of the Doctrines associated with God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. But, they would not have used that formula, nor insisted that each worship service begin and end with it.
So, while the ELCA (and practically every other modern expression of Christianity) insists on a Trinitarian perspective, it is true that this perspective has not always been present, and would not have flowed so freely from the lips of Jesus’ earliest followers.
Over time, it is the perspective which followers of Jesus came to share. They/we found this perspective to be helpful and informative. Seeing God as One God, in three persons, allowed us to see in its entirety the message which Jesus taught.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit. These are the “names” associated with the Triune God. Some prefer to refer to the functions of these three, so you will hear formulas like Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier. The perspective being sought is one in which God is understood as larger than and more complete than anything we could envision or describe. God needs three names to even begin to speak of who he is and what he does.
God the Father/God the Creator, is an acknowledgment that in God all things find their ground of being. Who we are is rooted in God. We are all God’s creation; everyone one of us. The God whom we worship is the maker of all things. The God to whom we offer our prayers, is the One who called all things into being. When we insist on a Triune perspective we are instructing followers that no one in the whole of God’s creation is to been seen as anything less than one of God’s children. Everyone, in the whole of creation. It matters not their creed or their ethnic heritage or the color of their skin.
Who we are, is summed up in the acknowledgment that God is our Father/our creator. Regardless of what comes after, regardless of what we do with our lives, we are God’s.
In talking about the Son, it is helpful if we begin with the opening words of John’s Gospel. John writes, In the beginning was the Word, he tells us that this Word of God called into being everything which is. After painting a marvelous vision of the power and strength of this Word of God, he tells us that this Word has become flesh and dwelt among us.
The Son, the Redeemer, is that part of God’s person which seeks to be known. It is the facet of God’s person which allows us to understand. It is that self-expression of God which liberates us from the fears associated with darkness and death. We have come to believe that Jesus is the Son of God, the One sent among us to save us.
Within the Trinity, the Son embodies what it is that we believe and teach. It is the invitation from God to think right thoughts.
The name of the third person of the Trinity is the one which varies the most. Like many of you, I grew up referring to the third person as the Holy Ghost. “Ghost” language begins to be changed to “Spirit” language sometime around the early 70’s. “Spirit” is a better word. And “Ghost” has too many non-religious connotations. In scripture, this third person is referred to as the “Paracleat,” or more simply, “Helper.” In another part of John’s Gospel, the Spirit is called “the Advocate.” The Spirit is that part of God which guides us into righteous living.
It is the Spirit which gives meaning to our sighs, to those expressions of our hearts too deep for us to even understand. It is the Spirit who nudges us in the right direction or serves as a check on our wanton desires.
The Spirit is concerned with how we live. The Spirit addresses the realization that God not only concerns God’s self with who we are and what we think but also with what we do. Salvation may be associated with the second person of the Trinity, but our relationship with God isn’t complete unless we are also actively seeking sanctification.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit; Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier; who we are – what we believe – how we live or lives; the perspective shared among those committed to this articulation of the Christian faith is that all of this matters. Who we are – what we believe – how we lives our lives; you can’t really claim to be a participant in the Way of Jesus unless all three are embraced.
The Doctrine of the Trinity is one of those Church statements which developed over time, reaching it final formulation centuries after the death and resurrection of Jesus. Those who formulated the Doctrine (and those accept the Doctrine) believe that all of the parts are there in the earliest writings. Most importantly, we see in the Doctrine of the Trinity a way to direct the perspectives of those who would seek to become Christian, encouraging them to see all that there is to be seen when one considers who God is and what it is that God calls upon us to do.
Father – Son – Holy Spirit.
Creator – Redeemer – Sanctifier.
Who we are – what we believe – how we live our lives.
Our identity as Christians includes all three.
Amen.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Devotion - Thursday, April 29
The homily offered at our Closing Eucharist, referred to the Ten Commandments as a covenant between God and the people whom God had chosen. Rather than seeing these as restrictions, such a view encourages us to understand them as signs of the relationship. The former Egyptian slaves were willing and eager to be united under the care and watchful eye of the God of Abraham. An old rabbinical story says they were not content with one law (“I will be your God and you will be my people”,) but asked for nine more.
When Moses goes up on the mountain, and the Ten Commandments are given him, he comes down the mountain to discover the whole molten calf thing and in his anger he smashes the stone tablets on which the commandments were written.
Later in the story, in Exodus 34, we learn that God calls him back up the mountain and that new stone tablets are inscribed with the Word of God.
In that 34th chapter, we hear a phrase often repeated in scripture, but too seldom reprinted on bumper stickers. It is a phrase which sums up God’s relationship with us. Here, the words are actually spoken by God, “The Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”
It is because of God’s mercy and grace that those former Egyptian slaves are given a second chance. It is because of God’s mercy and grace that Christ comes among us. It is because of God’s mercy and grace that we are able to extend love and kindness to one another. It is all possible because of God’s mercy and grace.
What a fitting thought to end our year together. As we conclude the academic year and prepare for summer, might we retain as our mantra, “The Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Might it govern our actions over the summer; might it give us impetuous to return home and reconfigure the relationship of our childhood into adult relationships. And above all, might it provide the assurance we need in order to live lives confident of God’s presence in our lives. Let us strive to take on those Commandments, as a way of illustrating to the world that God is our god and that we are indeed one of God’s children.
I have benefited greatly from these electronic exchanges. I pray that they might have opened the way for God to have blessed your life, too. I will return to writing when school resumes, that date is August 18.
God’s Peace,
Pastor Chris
When Moses goes up on the mountain, and the Ten Commandments are given him, he comes down the mountain to discover the whole molten calf thing and in his anger he smashes the stone tablets on which the commandments were written.
Later in the story, in Exodus 34, we learn that God calls him back up the mountain and that new stone tablets are inscribed with the Word of God.
In that 34th chapter, we hear a phrase often repeated in scripture, but too seldom reprinted on bumper stickers. It is a phrase which sums up God’s relationship with us. Here, the words are actually spoken by God, “The Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.”
It is because of God’s mercy and grace that those former Egyptian slaves are given a second chance. It is because of God’s mercy and grace that Christ comes among us. It is because of God’s mercy and grace that we are able to extend love and kindness to one another. It is all possible because of God’s mercy and grace.
What a fitting thought to end our year together. As we conclude the academic year and prepare for summer, might we retain as our mantra, “The Lord, a God merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love.” Might it govern our actions over the summer; might it give us impetuous to return home and reconfigure the relationship of our childhood into adult relationships. And above all, might it provide the assurance we need in order to live lives confident of God’s presence in our lives. Let us strive to take on those Commandments, as a way of illustrating to the world that God is our god and that we are indeed one of God’s children.
I have benefited greatly from these electronic exchanges. I pray that they might have opened the way for God to have blessed your life, too. I will return to writing when school resumes, that date is August 18.
God’s Peace,
Pastor Chris
Wednesday, April 28, 2010
Devotion - Wednesday, April 28
Matthew 5:17-20, contains what is most often referred to as the Sermon on the Mount. Jesus has spoken the Beatitudes, now he is offering comments on righteousness. He says, “For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”
How can anyone disagree with Jesus? And yet these words must be reconciled with the affirmations made by Paul and the whole Church that “we are justified by grace, not by works, lest anyone should boast.”
Righteousness, righteous living, is living according to God’s Word. It means following God’s law. To be righteous is to walk in the way of our Lord. Our righteousness is rooted in Christ’s death and resurrection; this does not mean that I cease to examine my steps and evaluate whether I am living according to God’s Word. Our righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees because it is rooted first and foremost in my dependence upon Jesus. It in Christ that I trust, not in myself. Our righteousness exceeds that of the aforementioned persons because it has this giant head start.
Realizing our position, we strive even more diligently to hold on to what has been given us. We are righteous, in order to show our appreciation for what Christ has done.
The righteousness of Christ’s followers should exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees. How can it not? We have been set ahead and we have the greatest of all possible motivations to remain faithful and true.
How can anyone disagree with Jesus? And yet these words must be reconciled with the affirmations made by Paul and the whole Church that “we are justified by grace, not by works, lest anyone should boast.”
Righteousness, righteous living, is living according to God’s Word. It means following God’s law. To be righteous is to walk in the way of our Lord. Our righteousness is rooted in Christ’s death and resurrection; this does not mean that I cease to examine my steps and evaluate whether I am living according to God’s Word. Our righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees because it is rooted first and foremost in my dependence upon Jesus. It in Christ that I trust, not in myself. Our righteousness exceeds that of the aforementioned persons because it has this giant head start.
Realizing our position, we strive even more diligently to hold on to what has been given us. We are righteous, in order to show our appreciation for what Christ has done.
The righteousness of Christ’s followers should exceed that of the scribes and Pharisees. How can it not? We have been set ahead and we have the greatest of all possible motivations to remain faithful and true.
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